The Wolf at Work II - OR - It's Hard to Keep a Dead Woman Down
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Saitoh is back in the office and dealing with a murder investigation that has gone terribly wrong. As the day progresses the investigation deepens, deeply buried government secrets are revealed, a new police recruit is considered and a dangerous, beautiful complication from his past wreaks havoc. (Rated M for Content)
1. Chapter 1

**THE WOLF AT WORK II OR, IT'S HARD TO KEEP A DEAD WOMAN DOWN**

A Gumi Reloaded Story – Written by MightyMightyMunson

This story takes place directly after a **Welcome Wagon of One**. To find out what happens next to Saitoh, read **The Fast and the Furious, New Meiji Style**.

_**Also, while not graphic – the Wolf takes a walk down memory lane and there's some mature content (violence and implied sex) so heads up and have fun reading. **_

**Date**: February 8, 2060

**Time**: A bit past noon and for the rest of the day, into the early evening.

**Places**: New Meji DOJ Municipal Complex. Saitoh works in the wing where twits go after being arrested. It also takes place in the Lower Side New Meiji and Club Gomi.

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED TXT MSG:**

To: H. Saitoh

From: A. Minato

Subject: Intel on

**START**

Why do you insist on sending me texts when you can get your spindly butt down to the armory and speak with me in person? This is why New Meiji is in the shitter. In my day, we TALKED to each other if we had questions. I blame this on you and other reprobates of your generation.

I don't know where in the hell you dig up these dinosaurs. Takani has been out of circulation for years which is a damn good thing. He's nothing but trouble, not unlike a certain chain-smoking grump who keeps pestering an old man waiting for his retirement date to kick in.

If you want more information, you know damn well where to find me.

Minato.

p.s. Congratulations on your promotion, jackass.

p.p.s How are things going with that hot lawyer?

**END**

**THREE MINUTES LATER… **

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED EMAIL MSG:**

To: H. Saitoh

From: T. Kubose

Subject: Search Warrant Request, CONFIRM ID 945D-78904FDE-704ATB

**START**

Major,

Per your request, a search warrant has been granted based per the details you provided in the original documentation request (please see attached). This pertains to CASE 05-02-2060-AHJBL-ST4EVR (please see attached case file ID and Synopsis)

Please confirm via digital signature you receipt of said search warrant and upon execution, provide all necessary documentation (in triplicate) on form IH8T-PRWRK-08-02-2060 (please see attached).

Cordially Yours,

T. Kubose

p.s. Congratulations on your promotion.

**END**

**TWO AND A HALF MINUTES LATER**

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED EMAIL MSG:**

To: H. Saitoh

From: J. Takamatsu

Subject: RE: CASE 05-02-2060-AHJBL-ST4EVR

**START**

Major,

Thank you for your follow up about the concerned citizen report. Not many people do. I appreciate it. Going through the email this morning, I ran across a complaint filed by one C. Kakuyo on 07-02-2060 at 23:46. (Please see attached) In the complaint, there was made mention of a woman who matched the description of the deceased female in your case file.

I called the complainant and obtained some additional information regarding both the description of the woman in question and the location where the sighting occurred. I've included the audio file and a transcript on this message. If there is any way I can be of additional assistance, please let me know.

Officer J. Takamatsu

p.s. Congratulations on your promotion. I think?

**END**

**THREE MINUTES LATER… (YES, THEY KEEP COMING…) **

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED EMAIL MSG:**

**To: H. Saitoh**

**From: T. Takagi**

**Subject: CASE FILE NUMBERS**

**START**

Major Saitoh,

Please send ASAP case file numbers for following cases:

1\. Sunshine Cafe incident

2\. Garage bombing

3\. Botched MPD raid

I also require links to processed evidence reports for #2 above if such have not yet been cleared for inclusion in main file.

Very truly yours,

Takagi Tokio, Esq.

Assistant Prosecutor

New Meiji Department of Justice

p.s. Saw press conference. My congratulations and sympathy on your promotion.

**END**

**45 SECONDS LATER**

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED EMAIL MSG:**

To:

From: H. Saitoh

Subject: CASE FILE NUMBERS

Takagi-san,

Per your request, I have attached the requested case files and links for the cases.

A search warrant has been issued regarding the MPD raid. Additional documentation and information will be forthcoming. I would anticipate that this investigation will take until later this evening, necessitating a discussion after normal business hours. As such, I have asked Captain Watanabe to reach out to you and make arrangements for this evening. Please let me know what your availability looks like.

Regards,

H. Saitoh

p.s. Congratulations are not necessary.

**TWENTY-ONE SECONDS LATER**

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED EMAIL MSG:**

To: H. Saitoh

From: T. Takagi

Subject: CASE FILE NUMBERS

**START**

Major Saitoh,

Thank you for the requested information with links. I will require the additional information, also, and will make arrangements via Captain Wantanabe to coordinate schedules. I anticipate being available for further briefing after 18:00 hrs. today

Very truly yours,

Takagi Tokio, Esq.

Assistant Prosecutor

New Meiji Department of Justice

P.S. In that case I withdraw my congratulations, but not my sympathy.

**END**

**THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

**TXT MSG: ENCRYPTED AND CONFIDENTIAL**

**START TXT MSG: KWATANABE to HSAITOH**

WTF RE: TOX PANEL? STATUS REQUEST RE LITTLE MERRY SUNSHINE.

NOTE: INITIAL FACILITY PUBLIC RECORDS REVIEW INDICATES MORE FUCKWITTERY. SUBPOENA REQUEST IN PROGRESS.

STAND BY FOR ADDITIONAL DETAILS.

**END TXT MSG.**

**TEN MINUTES LATER **

**TXT MSG: ENCRYPTED AND CONFIDENTIAL**

START TXT MSG: HSAITOH to KWATANABE; CAPT SQD3

URGENT: SECURE AND DOWNLOAD ALL RECORDS RE: CASE 05-02-2060-AHJBL-ST4EVR. DATA WIPE IN PROGRESS, ALL PUBLIC RECORD AND GOVT DATABASES IMPACTED. PERP UNKNOWN. INSIDE JOB POSSIBLE. USE CAUTION.

**END TXT MSG:**

**SEVENTEEN MINUTES LATER**

**TXT MSG: ENCRYPTED AND CONFIDENTIAL**

START TXT MSG: KWATANABE to HSAITOH

DATA WIPE CONFIRMED. NO RECORDS REMAINING FOR TAKANI NEXT OF KIN. ALL PUBLIC RECORDS FOR TAKANI SANITIZED. DOS ATTACK ON GOVT DATABASES / BANK ACCT IN PROGRESS. DATA FORENSICS TEAM ON CASE.

STAND BY FOR ADDITIONAL DETAILS.

P.S. BRAT. I ALWAYS USE CAUTION.

P.P.S. TRANSPORT ARRANGEMENTS WITH TAKAGI SET. AM DETERMINED TO GET ALL SORTS OF DIRT. ONCE OBTAINED, BLACKMAIL ASSURED.

**END TXT MSG.**

Bloody hell," Saitoh swore and punched the down arrow on the elevator that would take him to the armory. Cyber-attacks against the government were an everyday occurrence in New Meiji. Successful ones, however, were not. Leaning against the guard rail in the elevator as it began to descend several floors down to the sub-basements where Minato and the armory were located, the major mentally reviewed the Takani Case, one that had already bypassed strange and was hurtling headlong into a surreal cluster that now involved several DOJ departments, the largest and oldest bank in Japan and several public record conglomerates who were convinced that the attack on their databases was government initiated.

(They may not be wrong…)

Saitoh adjusted his body armor and carefully slid a small data encryption disk into one of many pockets in his uniform. The day before, when working the investigation on the botched police raid that had left several dead officers, a red-headed lunatic on the loose with a theoretically dead woman in tow, he'd followed instincts honed sharp by years of dealing with a corrupted bureaucracy.

Contrary to standard procedure and born of caution, when he'd encountered what appeared to be a military block on the father of the missing woman, he'd immediately backed up all files using both soft and hard copy in the event that something went amiss.

**Something had.**

Saitoh felt the elevator begin to slow down, and in seconds, he was at the armory level. With a faint chime, the elevator doors opened, revealing a lit basement hallway that led leftward. He quickly walked down it till he came to a heavy metal door whose only access point was through an advanced DNA scanner. One the scanner had confirmed his identity and he was past the first set of security doors, Saitoh made his way to the second and pressed it was well.

Seconds passed, then a minute.

Saitoh swore and pressed the button again. Minato was a packrat that never scurried from the trash-filled sanctity of what the old man blithely referred to as his office. Saitoh's nose wrinkled up reflexively at the thought of wading through the mess.

The intercom crackled after another minute. "Go away! I'm in a staff meeting, dammit."

"Moron," Saitoh rolled his eyes, "You've not attended a staff meeting in five years."

"I'm busy!" If rancor could fly through electronic byways, Saitoh would have been electrocuted on the stop. "So, get the hell out of here and come back another day, you flea-bitten wolf!"

Saitoh exhaled sharply with irritation. While a certain measure of banter was to be expected with the old coot, he neither had the time nor the inclination to extend the bitch fest for a second more than absolutely necessary.

"Fine," he drawled as if he couldn't care less, "I'll come back later."

Again, there was an awkward measure of silence from the intercom. "You will?"

"Yes, and I'll bring the entire janitorial staff down with me," the police officer's deep voice was filled with menacing promise, "every last damn one of them. They'll _clean_ you know, and some of them who've had all their vaccinations and are smart enough to wear hazmat suits might survive the assignment."

(3…2…1…)

The armory door opened.

"You ornery, cold-hearted bastard of a man!" Warbling with indignation, Minato glared up at him, the poorly maintained LED panels reflecting unevenly on a pair of very dirty, wire rimmed glasses that belonged to the New Meiji DOJ armory master, "you so much as dare send one of those disinfectant armed devils down here and I'll poison you in your sleep, spit on your corpse and burn your house down around your body!"

"Yare, yare, if you're out to kill me, you'll need to get in line," Saitoh smirked, amused at the old soldier's latest and greatest threat of murder.

"So, where's your girlfriend? I thought she'd be accompanying you down here for the body armor," Minato wheezed as he tried to keep pace with the much taller man, sending volley after verbal volley in the mal-tempered major's direction. "Everyone's been wondering where the hell you've been hiding her these past few days, you know."

Saitoh refused to say a word. His reputation as the police force's token jerk would suffer immensely otherwise, to say nothing of Tokio's safety.

When the men arrived at his office, Minato fumbled for his set of keys. Unlike the digital locks that were used throughout the DOJ, the old man insisted on steel bolt mechanisms. The door to his office swung open and a rancid order that vaguely reminded Saitoh of an enlisted man he'd put through the wringer whose hygiene habits had been lacking.

"You're a pig, you know that, right?"

"Meh, I'd like to consider myself a reclusive genius," Minato snapped. He loved his office and it was hardly his fault that the room loved him right back.

"What intel do you have on Takani?" Once inside the sanitation free hellhole, Saitoh didn't waste his time getting down to business. Out of both principle and his own personal safety, he categorically refused to sit down on the filthy mess of what he suspected had been, eons ago, a folding chair.

"Hmm," Minato sat down with a huff in a swivel chair that had seen much better days and took of his sweat stained spectacles and made a half-hearted attempt at polishing them, "I'm getting old and my memory isn't what it used to be."

"Your syphilitic induced senility is hardly my concern, Idiot," Saitoh growled as he looked around the car wreck of the man's office. Shelves upon shelves were filled with electronics, out of date weaponry and several rusting boxes that appeared to be leaking a bright green substance from them, "the fact that someone has initiated a comprehensive data wipe that has already sanitized all of the man's files and has destroyed evidence regarding an active investigation is."

"I can't say that I'm surprised," Minato put his glasses back on and peered up thoughtfully at the serious officer standing like a sentry in his office, "the bastard has been on the government's payroll since before you were born and you can bet your scrawny ass that he's still hip deep in with certain branches of the defense department."

Hands gnarled from years of military service and weapons maintenance, Minato pulled out a stained file folder and opened it, revealing an old photograph of bespectacled, serious looking man with patrician features.

"I'm sure you've heard the about the pre-war mitigation efforts by the military?"

Saitoh nodded. While not common knowledge in civilian circles, persistent rumors still persisted in the DOJ regarding top secret military tests involving genetic manipulation in the last decade before civil war nearly ripped the country apart. Drugs designed to create super soldiers had been stolen from government hands and sold on the black market by unscrupulous government hacks to any syndicate who had enough money to pay for the state secrets. According to official government statements, the project had never gotten off the ground and no funding, support or participation had ever been authorized.

Initially, Saitoh has discounted the most sordid of the gossip as nothing more than another example of the post war hysteria and paranoia that had consumed the country in the first few unstable years of peace. In light of the concerted effort to eradicate any hint that the enigmatic patriarch of the Takani family ever existed, his doubts as to the validity of the rumors were being rapidly replaced with a dreadful cold sense of certainty.

"He was part of the project?"

"Part of the project? Don't be a dolt, Boy. He led the damn thing," Minato said as he began rifling through a stack of antiquated data file storage packs. After a minute of digging through the detritus that covered his desk, he grunted with approval and held up a small rectangular object with what looked like a primitive data port. Minato took the antiquated storage device, called a USB Drive, and inserted it into a modified data jack that went to his computer.

"Allow me to introduce you to the man who still has several patents on file for the creation of synthetic meta-amphetamines. Not in Japan of course, because this operation never took place in the first place," Minato's sarcasm was as thick as the trash on his disturbingly sticky floor.

Saitoh's angular face paled as a wave of pure fury washed over him. For this alone, Takani Hiroshi deserved a slow and painful death, ideally at the hands of everyone who'd lost a loved one to the addictive drugs that had a stranglehold on the city thanks to the crime syndicates who profited by the illegal manufacturing and distribution of drugs that from their genesis were designed to make any user a mindless, violence crazed killing machine.

The fact that the syndicates that had reaped the profits of Takani's murderous research had nearly destroyed his family and were now hellbent on finishing the job, ensured that Saitoh would be at the front of the line.

"Ahh, here we go," Minato mumbled after fiddling with the hacked-up data jack.

Saitoh moved closer to the computer monitor as a shaky image, likely from a handheld device, appeared. Poorly lit, the sound quality lacking, Saitoh could make out that the recording was of a heavily secured conference room, one that lacked windows and contained a long and clearly expensive conference table with a presentation area at the front of the room.

At the table sat a number of men and a couple of women in uniform. From what he could tell, all branches of the military were present at the table along with what appeared to be a handful of civilians. A few of the officers he recognized, one of the women was in the cabinet of the current prime minister, while others had died in the last decade or so, all in "accidents" that were suspicious to say the least.

For an instant, the recording destabilized, becoming nothing more than a hiss of static. Cursing, Minato made a fist and hit the side of the hand wired data jack. The image stabilized once again. Saitoh's eyes narrowed as a tall, slender man stood up.

It was Takani.

"Some of you have brought up concerns as to the expense and efficacy of the proposed project," despite the poor sound quality, the scientists voice was even, the accent crisp and cultured. "while others have gone so far as to raise questions about whether or the scientists committed to this project are willing to make the necessary sacrifices to see this conflict to its desired end."

The geneticist smiled, the expression unsettling and his voice changed as he began reviewing a projected presentation on the screen behind him, becoming harder with each data set, the clinical tones becoming infected with the taint of patriotic idealism that Saitoh quickly realized was nothing short of madness.

"Very soon, our country will be engulfed in Civil War. You've seen the casualty estimates and had time to assimilate the horrendous loss of life, property and resources that will befall this country. As it stands now, we'll lose an entire generation to the first wave of warfare and many of the next generation as well," Takani put both of his hands on the conference table and leaned in, capturing the attention of every person present in the room.

"It doesn't have to be that way," the scientist said with a dreadful sense of certainty, "while I cannot and will not deny that loss of life will occur as part of this project, a statistically small number of deaths is preferable to your children and grandchildren's generation being slaughtered by what could be years of war.

Takani pressed a button on the wall by the presentation screen.

"As for the question of resolve and sacrifice…"

The door to the presentation room opened. Two soldiers entered, each holding a slender girl by one arm.

Saitoh's eyes went wide with shock as he took in the all too familiar features. Clearly frightened and struggling to maintain her composure, the dark-haired girl whose recently televised murder he was now investigating nearly forty years later, stared around the room as if she was looking for help and finding none.

"Yes, it's his daughter," Minato whispered, all traces of bantering gone, "poor kid," While he'd never married or had children, he was still a human being, unlike many in the recording, and found the recording distressing to say the least.

"I'll be damned," Saitoh murmured. While still young, only a few years older than Tsutomu from what he could tell, he could see the promise of womanhood in the young girl's pale face. Glad in a grey surgical robe and scrub bottoms, the child was barefoot.

"Mostly likely, I'll wager," Minato adjusted the data jack cord. "It's crazy that this recording is nearly a decade older than you are."

"…after this demonstration, there should be no doubts as to either."

The next few seconds of the recording were horrifying. No stranger to violence and cruelty, Saitoh was stunned to see the scientist, the girl's fucking father for crying out loud, casually raise a fifty-caliber pistol and shoot his own child in the stomach.

(Son of a bitch!)

Saitoh seethed, his parental and professional instincts reacting violently to the scene. The girl, Megumi, cried out in pain and then doubled over. A handful of audience members jumped to their feet and a one shouted in anger and alarm. The fact that most of the audience hardly responded to the violence was damning in and of itself.

"As you can see by the impressive output of blood, the subject has received a direct shot to the liver at close range with a high caliber weapon," as if blind to the child's agony, Takani pulled up the surgical grey top that the now groaning girl was wearing, revealing severe arterial bleeding.

He motioned to the soldiers holding the now nearly unconscious child by the arms. "If you would be so kind as the turn the subject around?" He waited until the soldiers did as requested, turning the victim around until her exposed back was presented to the now silent attendees. Black hair that nearly fell to the girl's waist obstructed the view so Takani carefully swept the inky mass aside and over her slender shoulders, the deceptively gentle act at awful odds with his capacity for violence against his own flesh and blood, "You will note that a clean exit wound is present, as would be expected."

"Fascinating," a medal festooned officer nodded, clearly interested. Saitoh's fists clenched at the man's casual cruelty and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to shoot the bastard in the same fashion and see how the fuckwit liked it.

The scientist motioned to a large wound that marred the pale skin of the child's exposed back.

"Normally, a soldier suffering such a wound would bleed out in under seven minutes," Takani intoned, as if he was presenting a freshly dissected frog to a room of high school students, "and as you can see, the subject's vitals are already beginning to drop."

Saitoh leaned close to the monitor, oblivious to the half-eaten food and drink littering Minato's desk. The projection screen lit up and sure enough, a standardized monitoring panel appeared, showing various indicators of health, all of which were clearly failing.

In seconds, the girl slumped down between the soldiers that were holding her as she lost consciousness due to blood loss and shock.

"However, if this committee approves the funding for this project, this degree of damage to a solider need not prove fatal," Takani's voice dropped nearly an octave, becoming a predatory purr, "observe".

Saitoh already knew what he was going to see before it began. He'd seen pictures of the woman the child had become, curled up in agony on a rickety, metal stair well as a red headed murderer hovered over her protectively. The contorted position of the woman's blood covered body and the rictus of her features frozen in the captured image now made perfect sense.

"How many times has this happened to her?" Minato wondered aloud, "and why in the hell did she end up working for her old man?"

"Abused children often remain with those that harm them," Saitoh said flatly, having seen similar patterns of behavior over the course of his career, though never to this extent, "It's all they know and some come to view such brutality as a normal part of life."

The child in the recording suddenly jerked her head up and screamed shrilly, her body twisting so violently that one of the soldiers nearly dropped her. Grainy as it may be, Saitoh would see signs of regeneration as broken, bleeding skin began to stitch itself together.

"Come and see for yourself," Takani offered, motioning to the conference attendees and in seconds, the only images on the recording were the backs of men and women jostling macabrely for a look. The recording stopped then, its purpose fulfilled, and the screen became a sea of static.

"So, this is what started it all," Saitoh said, sitting down on the beleaguered folding chair with a thud, still shocked at what he'd witnessed. No stranger to the crimes that a government could commit in the name of national security, this was beyond the pale, "and this is why everything is being erased."

He thought about the copies he'd made of Takani's file. Simple precautions would no longer be enough to ensure that the criminals responsible were caught and held accountable for his actions. The manslayer that he'd encountered at the diner, for all his unnatural strength and violence, was no longer the sole priority of the investigation.

"Within days, the good doctor had unlimited funding at his disposal," Minato nodded, his wrinkled mouth a flat, angry line. "The botched police raid has brought a carefully buried state secret to light, Major." He glanced over at rangy police officer. No longer shocked, Saitoh's features had set into a familiar, predatory expression.

"They'll try and stop you," Minato said quietly, "by any means necessary."

Saitoh shrugged and took out a cigarette. "Let them try."


	2. Chapter 2

**THE WOLF AT WORK II OR, IT'S HARD TO KEEP A DEAD WOMAN DOWN**

**CHAPTER 2 **

A Gumi Reloaded Story – Written by MightyMightyMunson

This story takes place directly after a **Welcome Wagon of One**. To find out what happens next to Saitoh, read **The Fast and the Furious, New Meiji Style**.

_**Also, while not graphic – the Wolf takes a walk down memory lane and there's some mature content (violence and implied sex) so heads up and have fun reading. **_

**Date**: February 8, 2060

**Time**: A bit past noon and for the rest of the day, into the early evening.

**Places**: New Meji DOJ Municipal Complex. Saitoh works in the wing where twits go after being arrested. It also takes place in the Lower Side New Meiji and Club Gomi.

**ONE HOUR LATER**

**Squadron Briefing, 33rd Floor Conference Room**

Saitoh watched as the shaken captains filed silently out of the conference room, each man and woman displaying their shock, anger and concern in various fashions. All were appalled. All had good reason to be. To ensure that he and Minato were not the only ones with access to the recording, he'd replayed it for Uramura and his squadron leaders and provided both hard and digital copies of Takani's case file.

After a very terse discussion with Uramura and his superiors, Saitoh's very shaken commanding officer had also forwarded copies to the Director of the New Meiji's DOJ Attorney's Office. To the department's credit, all hell was breaking loose and a team of lawyers were working on a discovery warrant for the high-ranking cabinet member who'd been identified as participating in the non-sanctioned project.

Already, strongly and carefully crafted denials were starting to filter down from various branches of the government. Saitoh sneered at the manufactured sense of outrage and the nearly hysterical protestations of innocence. The law had been broken and the guilty had tried to hide their crimes and now were panicking like rats desperate to find their way off a rapidly sinking ship.

Saitoh wondered for a moment if Tokio would be assigned to the case, assuming that those with the most to lose didn't manage to bury the investigation. The part of him that loved her beyond words and was fighting for her survival hoped not due to the horrendous risk that such a task would entail. The woman had enough on her hands as is. The other side, the side that always won out in situations like this, knew that the attorney was ruthless where corruption was concerned and would eat the complicit ministry bitch for breakfast if given the opportunity.

(She is bound to her duty as am I to mine.)

Due to the high priority nature of the botched police raid investigation, every member of his team had been assigned to manage different aspects of the case. Watanabe was on point for communications and data management. For now, she and the IT Forensic Team had been able to keep the data wipe from obliterating what few government records were on file for Takani, her bother and her bastard of a father. Itou, a former DOJ lawyer, was managing the legal side of the investigation and had already begun firing off a myriad of subpoena requests with brilliantly cold efficiency. Yamamoto would focus his field investigations on the murder of the five police officers. The leader of the 4th Squad, the older man's integrity was without question.

Saitoh turned off the projector and the lights in the conference room, then headed back to his office. He was tasked with field investigations regarding a murder that wasn't and obtaining enough evidence to arrest and convict the man and women who had willingly broken the law by supporting Takani Hiroshi's experiments. It was a given that the geneticist, if still alive, would be captured right along with them.

Normally, an assignment of this nature would be assigned to a member of his team, another squad captain.

(There isn't one...)

The 5th Squad Captian, Ryota, had resigned this morning in the face of damning financials that proved the man was in bed with a number of syndicates. Saitoh smiled nastily as he walked past various offices and meeting rooms, recalling the shocked look on the bastard's face as he'd been arrested and charged with a laundry list of crimes, many of them with mandatory sentences. There had been no discretion in the arrest and Saitoh had dragged the blubbering mess of a man through the department, publicly shaming the coward and scaring the shit out of his colleagues. What doubts had remained regarding the zero-tolerance policy on drug use and syndicate collaboration had vanished and he'd thrown the dirty rat headfirst into a jail cell.

While Saitoh had no regrets about the arrest, the necessary actions had left him with not only one squad, but two that required supervision. While the 2nd squad was well on its way to being sanitized of crooked cops, the 4th squad was still a mixed bag of honest, but overwhelmed officers and a suspected handful of men and one woman to whom honor was a foreign concept. It was only a matter of time before Saitoh sorted them out as well, hopefully with an accompanying arrest warrant, but at the moment, with over 30 officers reporting directly, he had his hands full and then some.

"Major Saitoh-sama!"

(Speak of morons and Yorimoto appears….) Saitoh resisted the urge to slam his secretary's knobby head face down on a copy machine as the man began to yammer a million meters a minute about matters of absolutely no consequence.

"There's a member of the press that would like to speak with you," Yorimoto motioned to a woman sitting cross legged in a chair by the entrance to his officer. Saitoh scowled. It was the same reporter from the other day at the press conference.

The reported smiled and stood up expectantly, recorder in hand.

"What part of no comment are you struggling to comprehend?" Saitoh gave the twit a look that wiped the sugary smile from her face, "this is an active murder investigation, not fodder for some shitty gossip column."

"We've received reports from a well-placed source that you're providing personal protection to the Assistant DA that was involved in a car bombing and Sunshine Care Massacre. Why is that Major?" Claws out, the reporter stood up, demanding answers, "What is the connection between the two of you?"

Yorimoto, sensing that shit…err…fecal matter was about to hit the fan, retreated to the safety of his desk.

"You want my attention? Fine. You've got it."

Saitoh stopped abruptly and turned to the well dressed reporter.

"In the past three months, six DOJ employees have been assassinated for doing their sworn duty, along with innocent family members and bystanders," no longer willing to entertain the notion of being remotely civil, Saitoh advanced on the reporter, "two of the victims were small children, both under the age of eight."

The reported tried to back up. Saitoh didn't let her. "You want a fucking headline?" he sneered contemptuously, "why don't you paste an image of a three-year-old girl, body blistered and bloody in the backseat of a civilian vehicle? A car bomb took her entire family out. What was left of her mother was incinerated in the front seat along with the body of her father."

The reported blanched and fumbled with her recorder, "That child was still alive when I pulled her out of the wreckage. The half of her face that hadn't melted right along with the pink car seat she'd been sitting in revealed she had brown eyes, freckles and was wearing a purple hair bow as any little girl might."

Shocked, the reporter looked up at the intimidating officer, seeing for the first time in her career, Saitoh Hajime's face show anything other than irritation and cold dismissal. There was anger there, to be sure, but also grief and horror at what had to be a terrible memory, even for a street hardened cop. She knew from the file that her news team kept on him that in addition to being a decorated war veteran, he was also a father of two young boys and that his wife had been raped and murdered, likely by syndicate members. There were reports, though they couldn't be fully substantiated, that the Major had become an alcoholic after the loss.

She began to understand why.

"Rather than focus your time and resources on pointless drivel, why don't you and your lot leverage what power the press has to help bring justice to the killers and closure for the families of the victims?" Still furious, Saitoh managed to catch the recorder as the woman dropped it. He wanted to crush the damn thing or shove it down the woman's throat, but managed to keep his temper in check. Barely.

"It may not boost your ratings, or bring advertisers in droves, but it's the right thing to do," Saitoh stiffly handed the bleach blonde anchorwoman her digital recorder. She took it and choked back a sob. He didn't give a shit. "Now, get the hell out of my way. I have work to do."

**45 Minutes Later**

**Saitoh's Office**

Grimacing, Saitoh set down the glass of water. It did nothing to quench the burning thirst. His throat was on fire.

(Goddammit! Pull yourself together!)

Saitoh swallowed hard, furious at his weakness. The addiction that had nearly taken his life and destroyed his family and all he held dear was relentless; the driving need to drink threatened to drown him. Normally, he was able to keep it at bay when at work, but in light of all the things that had happened over the course of the week, repressing the urge to break his promise and get fucking plastered was nearly impossible.

Desperate for something…anything to distract him from destructive impulses that were anything but honorable, Saitoh activated his computer terminal and began scrolling through his message inbox. There was nothing.

His mobile vibrated, the pattern signaling that he'd just received a text message. Saitoh pulled it out.

It was from Tokio.

Wolf…11:00 AM…2 days…details later

Saitoh ran his thumb across the display panel, wondering if the grey eyed prosecutor had some sort of sixth sense where he was concerned. The burning in this throat abated to the point he could almost breathe normally. Leaning back in his chair, the police officer stared hungrily at the message, amber eyes devouring every digital character, and all it entailed. While many of the events over the past few days had come with heavy burdens and consequences, not all of them had been of the negative variety.

Far from it.

After thinking for a second, he typed a response back to the woman he was going to marry in less than 48 hours.

Wildcat – details received and understood.

The nickname was a fitting one, he decided as he hit the send button. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the memory of holding Tokio in his arms, the hesitant smile on Tsutomu's face as he patted his father's hand for the first time in years and recalled the joy in Tsuyoshi's bouncing as he peppered his new mother with all sorts of inappropriate questions.

Okita's weary face, too thin and far too haunted also appeared in his mind's eye. His friend, the best man he'd ever known, one who'd saved his sorry Tinkerbell-free ass more times that he could count, was in serious trouble.

Saitoh opened his eyes and willed himself to sit up. He had a home to return to, a family that needed him, a woman who loved him, a friend who was chin deep in god knows what sort of mess who needed his support.

He reached for the glass of water and finished it. The burning lessened to the point he could bear it and he found that the promises he'd made to his children and the vows he would shortly make to Tokio were strong enough to steady him.

(Back to work…)

Turning his attention back to his email box, Saitoh re-opened the message he'd received earlier that morning from Officer Takamatsu and read it carefully, noting the thoroughness of the report and the additional actions taken to assist in the case that were entirely atypical for a desk jockey.

Curious, Saitoh accessed the DOJ HR Portal, found Takamatsu's file and carefully read over the details and attachments.

(Why in the hell is this man working in the communications department, answering civilian calls and complaints?) Takamatsu had graduated from the police academy at the top of his class, had a degree in forensics and a spotless performance record. Frowning, Saitoh dug a bit deeper and found that the officer had applied for several positions in various departments, but had been denied any sort of promotion, the denial reasons as bland and innocuous as a bucket of cheap tofu, none of them pointing out any real flaws in the man's performance or character. Saitoh had seen this before, namely with a white-haired woman with a synth box who'd been passed over for advancement many times over due to her age and gender.

Saitoh decided to test this theory and put in a call to Takamatu's supervisor.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door to his office.

"Enter," Saitoh said, already knowing who it would be.

The officer who entered his office was a few inches taller than he was, which was saying something. Well built, his uniform impeccably neat, the civilian communications specialist was polite, clearly intelligent and to the point.

He was also clearly of mixed heritage. Takamatsu's skin was the color of strong coffee with a shot of cream, his neatly cropped black hair rather than being straight, was curly.

(So that's it. Gods, I work with a bunch of idiots.)

Saitoh inwardly swore with frustration at the realization that the man standing at attention before him had been dealing with far more than angry civilians on a day to day basis.

"Have a seat," Saitoh motioned towards a chair facing his desk. Takamatsu nodded and sat down, posture ramrod straight. He met Saitoh's penetrating gaze squarely, without a hint of defensiveness or doubt.

"You graduated at the top of your class four years ago, correct?" Rather than beating around the bush, Saitoh went right for the jugular of the matter.

"Yes, Sir," Takamatsu nodded.

Saitoh glanced at his computer screen, "I see that you also attended the University of Kyoto, graduating in Forensics and Statistical Analysis."

"Yes, Sir," Takamatsu's expression changed slightly, his dark brown eyes becoming wary.

"So, why in the hell are you wasting your time in Civilian Communications?" Saitoh put his elbows on the desk, and leaned towards the young man sitting before him.

As expected, the officer bristled a bit as the blunt question hit home. Takamatsu had a measure of pride, as any man ought, but as Saitoh watched the police officer master his emotions and answer the question honestly, with no trace of self-pity or excuses, it was clear that the kid was humble as well and not the sort to pass the buck off on anyone, even if they had it coming.

"Are you going to stop applying for more advanced positions?"

"No, Sir," Takamatsu said firmly. There was anger in the young man as well, but it too, was well managed.

"Good," Saitoh stood up and walked around the desk, "you wearing armor?"

"I am," Takamatsu also stood up, not quite sure where the line of questioning was going. He also answered in the affirmative if he was armed. While outside investigations regarding some of the more serious civilian complaints were few and far between in his department, they did occur and he'd have to be an idiot not to take appropriate precautions.

"Let me see your firearm," Saitoh ordered. The handgun, government issued and well cared for, was of standard caliber for officers who worked in non-tactical positions. In short, it was a piece of shit.

Saitoh handed the pea shooter back and then strode over to a weapons locker that he'd just had installed. As far as décor went, it was far preferable to the pretentious crap he'd inherited upon his predecessor's retirement. From it, he took out a combat grade ballistics vest and two semi-automatic handguns, and handed them to Takamatsu.

"Put it on and complete the DNA registration for the weapons," he ordered, grabbing a few extra rounds just in case things got interesting.

"Major Saitoh," Takamatsu looked over at the newly promoted head of criminal investigations as he followed orders and began the DNA registration process on the two pieces he'd been handed, "may I ask what's going on?

"Moron. This is a job interview," Saitoh said dryly as he locked the weapons locker back up, "so get your ass in gear and meet me on parking level six in thirty minutes. I'm working on the Takani case and you're coming with me."

**20 MINUTES LATER**

**Office of K. Watanabe, Capt. 3rd Squadron**

**31st FLOOR**

Captain Watanabe unrolled another small ball of chocolate and popped it in her mouth, expression troubled. If her commanding officer's one remaining vice was cigarettes, hers was chocolate. Dark chocolate, to be more precise, and after the debriefing she'd just finished up concerning one Okita Souji, she'd lost count of how many chocolate wrappers she'd discreetly tossed in the garbage bin.

(At least I didn't set my desk on fire…)

No longer to able really sigh, the quiet electrical static that now approximated the very human emotion was barely decipherable.

The Major heard it anyway.

"He'll remember," Saitoh said firmly, "it will just take time." Any other outcome was absolutely unacceptable.

The grey-haired police officer chewed carefully (always on the left side) where she still had functional taste buds, "Memory loss of this magnitude and duration isn't easily undone, nor is it inflicted," She looked up, and even the AI in her artificial eye looked troubled.

"Dammit, Hajime! What happened to him? Who did this?" While she was disappointed that Okita had no memory of her and nearly everyone else who had once encompassed his rich, challenging, professional life, the fact that her boy couldn't recall his wife and daughter was devastating.

**CLICK**

Saitoh rechecked his spare high velocity magazine clips and slid them carefully into the ammunition packs on his hips. Karen noticed that he was heavily armed, which was well and good considering he was going to go and do field work on the Takani case.

The lack of eye contact and the clinical, almost detached recounting of what had happened to his best friend and all that the reunion had required and revealed, wasn't.

"If I knew the answers to those questions, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Saitoh's voice was even, precise and utterly lacking sarcasm, pithiness and bite.

Karen reached for another chocolate ball and stopped herself, "this is too much, even for you," she stood up from the office chair and walked over to where the much taller police officer was standing, "hells bells, I'm just on the sideline of half of this shit and I'm half tempted to crawl under my desk and hide till this all blows over."

The Major shrugged, looking past her eyes and out towards the pollution choked city view that her UV shielded windows provided, "I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter, Captain."

Watanabe rolled her remaining eye.

"You're getting it anyway," she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. The four boys she'd raised by herself after her husband had been killed in the line of duty would have seen the gesture and hauled their asses to safer ground, "talk to her. Talk to me. Please!"

"I just did," Saitoh adjusted his right holster and began to walk towards the door, clearly done with the conversation.

"Arughhh!" Watanabe wanted to pull her hair out, "you know damn well what I mean, you mal-adjusted, brat!" She could see that Saitoh was about to respond and because she'd worked with the twit for 10 years, was determined to pre-emptively put a hard stop the snub before it began.

"If you dare tell me to quit fussing because it's unbecoming, I swear to god, I'll shoot you."

Saitoh paused at the door, "Why would I waste my time and your ammunition giving perfectly sound advice to someone too dumb to follow it?"

At this point in the conversation, Karen may have thrown a chocolate ball in his general direction.

"There is an assignment that I would like to request your assistance on," Saitoh said seriously, dodging his head so that the foil covered chocolate missile zinged by his ear, "10th of February, 11:00 AM."

Karen's wrath abated instantly at the mention of a mission.

"Of course, Major. How long will the assignment be?"

"The primary objective should be met within one hour of start time."

Karen nodded, "what sort of backup will be needed?"

"None. This is a low-profile assignment. Street clothes only," Saitoh glowered at his much shorter colleague, "Watanabe, this is top secret."

Karen nodded, equally serious, "I understand."

"I have it on good authority that we'll be dealing with lawyers and all the paperwork that comes with them."

The 3rd Squad Captain groaned. She hated attorneys. "Yes, Sir. I'll be prepared for the encounter, as distasteful as it may be."

"See to it that you are," Saitoh nodded, "I would suspect that additional details will be forthcoming from one of our DOJ colleagues within the next 24 hours." He opened the door, intent on getting to the sixth floor with several minutes to spare.

"Major Saitoh," Karen asked, all business now, "are there any other mission details you can tell me?"

Saitoh pursed his lips together, deep in thought, "Other than I'm getting married and am in need of a witness for the paperwork, no."

"Goddammit, I'm being serious, Hajime!" Karen reached for another chocolate ball to chuck at his head.

"As am I, Karen," Saitoh said, his expression caught between being very serious and slightly evil as he walked out of the office and firmly shut the door behind him.

"Hey!" Watanabe was across her office and halfway out the door before the chocolate ball she'd been planning to chuck at Saitoh's head hit the floor, "Wait!"

Saitoh kept walking and didn't look back.

(Author's note...)

To continue with Captain Watanabe's story, please read "It's Off to Work I Go" with Tokio.


End file.
